


Sometimes

by humancorn



Category: Criminal Minds, Fringe (TV)
Genre: A little, Background/Vague Peter/Olivia, Can be stand-alone, Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cuddling, Emily Prentiss Centric, Emily's POV but not first person, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fuckbuddies, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, Maybe - Freeform, No Mentions of Alternate Universes (YET), Not Fringe Canon Timeline, Sexual Themes, Unrequited Love, i'm just vv gay, it's there tho, may add more - Freeform, not polivia bashing i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn
Summary: Emily - centric drabble about her feelings for Olivia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Warm-Up drabbles continue! Doing my part to grow the femslash community ;)

Sometimes, Emily wondered just what went on when she wasn't there. Sure, she'd heard a fair share of stories from Olivia - usually when they laid in bed together, just /touching/ each other as much as possible. Stories of ravenous monsters, of poisoned gas, or of serums that made one mad, of injections laced with eggs that grew and grew and burst. Fantastic, overly out-there stories that Emily was too smart to believe at first, and then too worn to not.

Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if she had accepted the transfer into the Fringe division she’d received, just a few weeks after she’d first met Olivia on a case. Would they be partners, at least, in the traditional sense? Two guns blazing into crime scenes, two hearts entwined over a glass of wine? Or would they have remained as they were now? Mouths and hands harsh against one another in a storage closet after their eyes met across the hall, when they both happened to be in Quantico, and not on cases that took them to two different sides of the country.

Sometimes, Emily wondered what would happen if they were both to settle down. When she would retire from the BAU; when Olivia would retire from Fringe Division. She knew that was not likely to ever happen, but hope after nights spent crying in each other’s arms over nightmares neither wanted to talk about wasn’t so bad. Hope, driving her on to go over one more case file, catch one more criminal. Maddening, unbidden hope. She’d seen Olivia’s hands on her _actual_ partner, and watched them linger and caress, as a schoolgirl would when nursing a particularly bad crush.

Sometimes, she wondered if it was the same for Olivia. If she hoped just as she did: that they’d meet again, work a case again, kiss again, touch again, be together _again_. Emily hoped, of course, that she did. That Olivia also wanted to grow old together in a small cottage in the woods of Montana, or in a café in downtown Manhattan, or a house in the suburbs of Washington. Sip coffee together in rocking chairs on an open porch; listen to old records and lay in bed all day reading books they’d meant to read years ago; make breakfast together on lazy Sunday mornings. But nagging hope destroys people, and so she left for London, hope fully latched and locked in the back of her mind. Hopefully, never to see those determinate hazel eyes ever again.

Sometimes, Emily wondered if the world was entirely against her, as she does find that passionate smile at a crime scene in inner-city London. Formal greetings, and Emily can see Olivia nearly flinch when her partner moves to touch her, she can see the immovable _tired_ in her eyes, and the slouch in her posture. As much as she wonders what happened since she left, everything in her wants to bring her close, hold her and tell her everything will be fine. Emily stops her hand just as it begins to reach out, to grasp her fingers, to wipe away everything they’d done and start over. Olivia smiles at her, and Emily can tell it’s worn, but she smiles back as she always has and wonders: where would they meet _tonight_?


End file.
